


In The Dark

by Persephone_Van_Dyke



Series: Time Agency [3]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Dirty Talk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-15
Updated: 2011-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:37:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephone_Van_Dyke/pseuds/Persephone_Van_Dyke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'I'm just gonna talk,' Blue Eyes said, his voice low and seductive. 'If you want?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt 'Dirty Talk' in [kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/)
> 
> Not my characters, not making any money from this

  
Dark. Very very dark. A radio link his only point of contact with the world.

It had, he had to admit, probably saved his life. If they hadn't got him into a light-free area, he would now be a lovely garden of light-spores, eaten by mutated mould. Also, he'd be dead.

As it was, he's been decontaminated and shut up in here. They assured him that three days in complete darkness would cause all the light spores to starve and die off. Then they'd let him out.

It's a small cell - it has to be. The floor is basically the size of a mattress - in fact, let's be fair, it _is_ a mattress. The essential facilities make voice-activated noises so you can find them in the appalling dark. The rest of the time you're meant to spend lying down. Twice a day, a remote physiotherapy session - a computer wired to the medical scanners talked him through gentle exercises this afternoon. This evening, some friends - other First Year cadets - had come to visit, crowding the microphone in the outer room. But now it's the small hours - at least he thinks so - and time is dragging.

No light. No reading, no computer, no games, nothing. Mostly, he'd heard, people sleep in here. Fat chance. His energy levels are high and he's twitchy as hell.

The radio buzzed into life.

'Hey gorgeous. Missed me?' said a familiar voice, sounding slightly pleased with itself.

'Boeshane?'

'Yep.'

'What the hell time is it?'

'Half past two. The monitors out here said you were still awake.'

Of course. They've tuned his wrist strap in to the medical system.

'What are you doing here?'

'Something we never got round to finishing, remember?'

Jon gritted his teeth. It had been a hasty screw in a break between classes, building up to what was definitely going to be an amazing climax, but the alarms had all sounded, and they'd jumped out of bed and run, and he'd been landed on by the light-spores -

'You came down here at two in the morning to have _sex_? I'm in a _containment chamber_ , you stupid fuckhead.'

'You have a radio link.'

'Yeah, well unless your cock is a _lot_ more flexible than it looks - '

Irritation conceals a growing ache. Unfinished sex does make him irritable. And, in fact, insomniac. He hadn't made the connection, what with spending the day worrying about light spores, but -

'I'm just gonna talk,' Blue Eyes said, his voice low and seductive. 'If you want?'

 _Oh yes please_.

'Oh, right. Is anyone else out there?'

'Nope. All computer monitored, the medics have gone. Just you and me, beautiful.'

'Oh. Oh, good.'

'So where were we?'

'I was sitting astride your legs,' began Jon, a trifle nervously. He isn't much of a talker during sex - he tends to act. 'Biting your neck.'

'Oh, yeah. You were really hard, pressing right against me,' responded the voice, almost a purr, low and delicious.

'I was - ' Jon snaked a hand down to where his cock was already beginning to thicken at the memory. 'Pressing right against your abs...'

'Your big, hard cock, pressed on my stomach,' prompts the voice. 'I was just about to reach down and stroke your balls, make you even hotter for me.'

'Ohhhhh - ' There's a thing Boeshane does with his fingers - not quite too rough, but close enough to feel really good.

'Yeah,' Jon manages. 'Yeah you were.' His own hand mimics the action, the pressure, not touching his cock, just compressing his balls gently til they ached with enjoyment.

'And then,' the voice continued, smooth and sensuous, 'I was gonna undo your trousers - really slowly, so slowly I'd make you curse me and order me to do it faster - '

He knows his audience. Jon never begs. He swears and demands and blusters and invokes complicated home-world damnations, but he never begs.

'And very. Very slowly, get your cock out,' continues the voice, funnelled into the dark world. Jon is suiting the action to the word.

'You know what I was gonna do then?' asks the voice, rhetorically. 'I was gonna make you lick my hand - get you to spit in my palm so it was nice and slick - and then, really slowly, grab your big, hard cock, and stroke it - right from the root up to the tip - and start to jerk you, make you gasp, and swear, and grind up against my hand.'

John is doing it, imagining the deft fingers gripping his swollen cock are Boeshane's, not his.

'What do you wanna do next?' asked the voice. A response is required.

'I want to bite your neck, you bastard,' murmurred Jon. 'Bite and suck til you've got those cute marks on you that everyone will see tomorrow and _know_ we had a really good fuck...'

'And?' It's a prompt, asing for more info.

'And then - oh - I'd get my hand on your neck - grip you under the chin, hard enough to scare you - and shove you back onto the bed,' Jon gasped, 'make you lie back - oh, fuck, I want to - ' he tailed off. The hand on his cock - his hand - is aching to speed up, but he needs the right reaction.

'Yeah?' the smooth, erotic voice, slightly hoarse.

'Then - ' hell, why not? ' - then I'd fuck your mouth. Whether you liked it or not.'

There, he's said it. Power game. Mind fuck. He wants this, so much, it's not something he'd dare to do for real. 'I'd hold you back against the pillows and press the tip of my hard cock against your lips, force you to taste me - '

'Oh, you're so wet already - your cock's leaking juice against my lips,' comes the voice, like a sweet harmony, 'I can taste you, salty and slick, on my mouth - please, baby, I want to taste you properly - I'm licking the tip, hard, with the flat of my tongue, to persuade you - '

John can picture it - those big, blazing blue eyes meeting his own - that very competent tongue working his head, lapping at the drop of precome oozing from him -

'Please, sweetheart - ' the voice is a little broken, almost begging, 'please let me blow you.'

John's visualisation is deep, intimate, feeding off the dark that surrounds him.

' _Uh_ \- can't refuse an offer like that, can I? I'm going to push my cock into your hot, wet mouth - feel you taking me in - so fucking hot, like fever, on the head of my cock - and the look on your face, surprised, excited, while your mouth works over me - '

'Sucking at you, then easing off and licking, then sucking harder, trying to pull you all the way in,' moans the voice, sounding more cracked. Jon - the small, commentating part of Jon's brain - wonders if Boeshane is jerking off too, but that's not as hot as the picture in his mind.

'I'm going to give it to you, you're going to swallow all of me,' he muttered, hand working himself hard. 'I'm going to push into your mouth - slowly - as deep as I can, til you look shocked and a little bit scared - '

That look in those blue eyes, the first time they did that, almost frightened, but still aroused and flirty and ready...

'I'm going to push myself into your mouth and make you suck me,' he gasped, 'I want to feel that clever tongue playing with my head, watch your cheeks hollow out as you suck me all the way in - '

'Oh, _god_ , yeah, please fuck my mouth - I want to taste you so much,' comes the voice, in counterpoint. 'Please - I want you to come in my mouth - you're so big - so much it almost hurts - go faster, a bit faster, that's it, fuck my mouth with your big, sweet cock -'

John is writhing hard on the bed, his fantasy chasing the delicious words he can only hear, his cock as hard as he's ever felt it, slicking through his clamping fingers.

'I want you to come in my mouth,' _oh, yes, I want that, so hot, so clever_ \- 'yeah, come for me, honey, please - I want to taste your cum, I want you to shoot your load in my mouth, I'm gonna swallow it all - '

Jon groaned, feeling himself seconds away -

'That's _it_ , yeah, come for me, come hard in my slick wet mouth, make me swallow you,' a continuing filthy soundtrack to the images in his head as he begins to peak, the pictures fast and momentary - Boeshane's eyes wide, his mouth working over Jon's wet, smooth cock - swallowing him, effortless, expert, sucking every last drop from him -

' - yeah, come for me, go on, come now, I want you - ' and Jon rocks with the force as the orgasm hits him full, he spurts hard through his fingers, gasping and moaning, words hot and full of lust replaced with moans of naked desire -

The last drops leave him. The visions fade.

He is in the dark, his chest and stomach slicked with cum.

'Oh. Oh _fuck_ that was good.'

'Uh,' Boeshane's voice, very breathless. 'Wow.'

A long pause.

'Were you jerking off then, you slut?'

A half-laugh. 'Of course. You think you're the only one who fucking needed that?'

'Nah.' Content, contemptuous, Jon relaxes. He's so relaxed he thinks he's going to fall asleep any minute.

'Did that feel good?' And again the voice has a hint of cockiness.

'I've never had a better blowjob,' said Jon, meaning it.

He can almost hear that grin over the radio.

'Thanks. I enjoyed it too.'

'Gonna go to sleep now,' Jon muttered. He rolled onto his side, hitched the blankets over him. He wants to roll up in a tight ball and savour the feel of that orgasm til sleep claims him.

'OK, sweetheart.' A pause, the scrape of a chair. 'Sleep tight. Love you.'

'L'v y' too,' Jon murmurred, already drifting. But the voice has already gone.

END  



End file.
